Читать книгу The SEAL's Stolen Child - Laura Altom Marie - Страница 11

Chapter Three

“Do you have any idea how bad this makes our whole team look?”

Garrett winced, lowering his cell when his commanding officer, Mark Hewitt, grew so loud Garrett heard him just fine with the phone being nowhere near his ear.

“AP picked up the story—SEAL Slams Reporter at Funeral. It’s everywhere.”

“Sorry, but the guy had it coming.” Whether his actions had been proper or not, Garrett figured the guy was lucky he’d gotten off with only one punch. Poor Eve had been a trembling, crying mess that Garrett had taken her straight home to his house—not hers. Hal’s lawyer and Juanita were handling the reception. Dina had ordered Eve to the sofa, where she now slept.

“Agreed, but you know better.”

“Sorry,” Garrett repeated, hoping with enough contrition this would all go away. “What do you want me to do?”

Sighing, his CO said, “You’re already on holiday leave for a few more days. Make it a few more weeks till this all dies down.”

“You got it.” Nice. Especially considering Garrett needed time to search for his son.

After five more minutes of hearing Mark lecture, Garrett finally was granted permission to end the call.

He found his mom out back, weeding. “Aren’t you cold?”

“Nah.” Kneeling in front of a baby banana palm, she rocked back on her heels. The wind had died down, though it was still chilly. When they’d moved to this house, he’d been midway through high school and had resented leaving the home where he’d grown up. Not only were there mature flower and vegetable gardens, but he and his dad had built a tree fort in their old yard that the kids living there today still enjoyed. Judging by how great this place now looked, his mom had put in a lot of gardening time. Back then, she’d told him the new yard would one day be beautiful, and as usual, she’d been right. “After all the rain we’ve had, feels good getting out of the house. How’s Eve?”

“Sleeping. You think I was wrong for letting the reporter have it?”

“Honey…” She took a few beats to answer. “You know I’m not big on violence, but in this case…”

“My thoughts exactly.” He sat on the wood bench his father’s firehouse crew had presented them with. His dad used to spend hours out here. His family and his garden were the only things he’d put above his job. What would his pop have thought about all this? Telling his folks he’d gotten Eve pregnant had been one of the hardest things Garrett had ever had to do. They hadn’t been overjoyed, but made it clear they’d stand by him no matter what. Given the chance, would he be that good of a dad?

“Say we find our son,” Garrett said to Dina. “What then? I’m assuming he was adopted. If he’s living in a good home, I can’t see ripping him away from all he’s ever known. But on the flip side, if we find he’s not in an idyllic situation, then what?”

“Pace yourself, hon. Let’s tackle one problem at a time.”

* * *

EVE WOKE NOT sure where she was. Then she spotted Garrett lightly snoring in a recliner. A huge cat sprawled across his lap, purring so loud Eve heard him from across the room. Fat Albert was still alive? They’d found the Maine coon tail as a kitten under the football-stadium bleachers. She’d wanted to keep him, but her dad refused. Garrett’s parents had recently lost their dachshund and were happy to take in the stray.

The whole Solomon house might’ve been small enough to fit in the ground floor of her home’s east wing, but the decor’s warmth made the space infinitely more inviting. The rooms were painted in soothing pale blues and yellows with most of the artwork either homemade needlework or paintings. Tables and shelves contained haphazard piles of books, and plants thrived on every windowsill.

Though Eve had missed her father’s funeral reception, oddly enough, she wasn’t sorry. Even if there hadn’t been that scene with the reporter, she didn’t feel emotionally strong enough to handle countless one-on-ones with family friends. As much as she valued their condolences, her father’s deathbed revelations left her in an odd place. While she was mourning, she was also angered and saddened by her father’s deception. Toss in the possible illegal-immigrant scandal and it was too much.

Rising silently, she folded the quilt she’d been covered with, then went in search of Garrett’s mom.

“Sleeping beauty!” Dina called from across the backyard. Neat weed piles told how she’d spent her afternoon. “Come look at these elephant ears. Last time you were here, I’d just planted them from bulbs.”

Eve fought fresh tears. Her pregnancy and subsequent disappearance couldn’t have hurt only Garrett. Understandably, Dina would also have been justified in being upset. How kind she was to not show it.

“They’re lovely.” Eve fingered the enormous leaves, breathing deeply of fresh-turned soil.

“Garrett still out?”

“Yes.” The memory of him with his cat made Eve smile. “I can’t believe you all still have Fat Albert—and he’s bigger than ever.”

“Us Solomons—” Dina tugged extra hard at a dandelion “—keep what’s ours.”

“If that was a dig about—”

“Stop right there. I may dig in my garden, but conversationally, I keep things on the up-and-up. If I have something to tell you, you’ll know. All I meant was that whether it be a stray or the grandchild I’ve long dreamed of having—once you and Garrett bring him home—I’m going to hold on to my grandson for all I’m worth.”

“Assuming we find him…” Garrett crossed the lawn. “You need to follow your own advice, Mom, and take this one step at a time.”

Eve asked, “When do we stop talking about finding him and actually start our search?”

* * *

“SURE YOU’RE UP FOR THIS?” Garrett asked the next morning in Eve’s entry hall as she gathered her purse and a light jacket. As usual, she looked dressed for a corporate board meeting in a cream-colored suit with her hair once again up. He was glad. It made her less approachable and therefore less appealing—at least that was the line he fed himself. She was still a beauty.

“I’m excited.” She managed a forced smile. “But truthfully, also a little scared. I haven’t been to that place since we lost our son.”

“You’ll be okay.” Had they still been a couple, he’d have pulled her into a hug, or maybe just held her hand. Some small sign to show her he cared. The thing was, they weren’t in any way connected other than by their shared past, which left him in an awkward spot.

“Here you yummy snacks.” Juanita handed him a bulging paper bag. “Sandwich and cookies.”

“Thanks.” He accepted her gift and had no problem giving her an impromptu hug. Today’s wig was straight, long and blond. Drawing back he winked. “You’re looking good. It’s a long drive to Savannah, and this will come in handy. Ready?” he asked Eve.

An hour later, silence had moved past awkward to just plain annoying.

On a bare stretch of interstate, he angled to face her. “Look, it’s been a while since we’ve really talked. How about filling me in on what you’ve done for nearly the past decade.”

She’d been staring out his Mustang’s window, but now glanced his way. “College at Brown.”

“Nice.” He passed a slow pickup.

“Daddy—Dad—went there.”

“Sorry about that dig. I get calling Hal Daddy is a Southern thing.”

She’d retreated to focusing on the passing scenery. “I joined a sorority, but looking back on it, I’d have been better off on my own. I spent too much time wondering if all those girls somehow knew my dirty secret. Which in retrospect, I can thank my father for. Had he let me have our baby at home, sure, gossipy tongues would’ve wagged, but once the shock wore off, everyone would’ve accepted our child. It incenses me how many years I lost due to feeling like a second-class citizen. Like just because I’d gotten knocked-up in high school, I wasn’t good enough to keep company with so-called ‘nice girls.’”

“Don’t hold back,” Garrett teased.

“Sorry,” she said with a shy smile, “but it actually felt good getting that out.”

“Don’t apologize to me. You’re preaching to the choir on believing you should never have left Coral Ridge, and there sure as hell isn’t a statute of limitations on hurt feelings or anger.”

“True…” When she met his gaze, his stomach acted funny. Lord, but she was a fine-looking woman. Somehow she managed to pull off regal, cute and smoking hot all at the same time.

Attempting to get his mind off how awesome he used to feel kissing her, he said, “I remember Mom telling me you’d been married. Guess it was quite the social event in Coral Ridge.”

Eve groaned. “Another mistake. Met Matthew my junior year. We shared some fun times. He was president of Dad’s old fraternity and during a parent weekend, Matt earned Hal’s seal of approval and that was that. We married right after graduation—of course Dad had the whole thing planned. Aside from picking my dress, pretty much everything else was set.” Eve paused, looking slightly ashamed. “Is there anything in my life I haven’t let my father do?”

Garrett fought the urge to clasp her hand. “I’m assuming your divorce was at least your idea?”

She laughed. “Daddy still has Matt on his Christmas-card list.”

Dodging a fast-food bag that’d blown into his lane, Garrett mused, “At least you won’t have to worry about that anymore.”

“You’re so not funny. Anyway, my degree is in marketing, so I’m part of that division in all Daddy’s companies. I’ve already taken off a week. Makes me dizzy thinking how much there is to catch up on.”

“With your dad out of the picture, are you now in charge?”

Her eyes teared. “I take it sensitivity training isn’t a highlight of SEAL business?”

“What? I asked a valid question. Last thing I meant was to hurt you.”

Reclining her seat, she curled onto her side, effectively hiding her face.

“I’m no expert, but isn’t it customary for you to now ask about me?”

Using her jacket as a blanket, she did have one question. “Got anything I might use for a pillow?”

* * *

BEFORE GARRETT PICKED her up that morning, Eve had done an internet search for a church she remembered being near the home for unwed mothers she’d stayed at. Now that Garrett had found it, the task fell on her to find the three-story historic residence.

“I remember it being redbrick.” She’d rolled down the tinted window for a better look. “It sat on two lots and there was a vegetable garden we all took turns tending. And a giant live oak. Unless the tree was harmed in a storm, it has to still be there.”

He slowed for a stop sign. “Nothing on this street fits that description. Mark it off on your map and we’ll go block by block till you see a place that looks familiar.”

Six blocks later, they’d found what they were looking for—only the garden had been replaced by a parking lot and an ornate sign hung from a wrought-iron gate, announcing that the place was a B and B called The Live Oak Inn.

“Now what?” she asked Garrett. “What are we supposed to do when our first—and only—lead doesn’t pan out?”

He pulled into the federal-style home’s lot and parked. “We’re not giving up that easy. Come on.”

Ten minutes later, they shared a wicker table and iced teas with the home’s owner on the back porch. The day was fine. Balmy with a playful breeze swaying ferns hanging from thin chains. A sweet, white flower Eve didn’t recognize perfumed the air. Had it not been for the jet flying low en route to the airport, they might’ve been in an earlier century.

“When we bought the place five years ago,” said Clara Duncan, middle-aged and sporting a Civil War–era costume complete with prim hair bun, “the house was in foreclosure. Because of that, our dealings were strictly with the bank. Miss Ginnie, our neighbor to the west, mentioned in passing this used to be a home for unwed mothers, but I’m sorry I don’t know much more than that.”

“It’s okay.” Eve traced the condensation on her slender glass. “We knew this was a long shot.”

Garrett asked, “Is Miss Ginnie still around?”

“Of course. Would you like me to call her over?”

“That’d be great.” Fresh hope raced Eve’s pulse.

It didn’t take long for Miss Ginnie to arrive, using a four-pronged cane to help navigate the porch stairs. “As I live and breathe.” Through blue eyes not dulled by age, the older woman surveyed Eve who’d stood to introduce herself and shake the woman’s hand. “You are about the right age to be one of Rose’s girls.”

Garrett had pulled out a chair for the elderly woman and, after more introductions, helped her sit down. Clara bustled off to get more tea and cookies.

Eve’s mouth was so dry she doubted herself capable of swallowing a crumb.

“Thank you for coming,” Garrett said, sharing the high points of their story. “Since Eve’s father left no information regarding our son’s current whereabouts—or even names of his adoptive parents—we’re having to start with the basics in our search.”

“I understand.” When Clara returned with refreshments, Miss Ginnie helped herself to three sugar cookies. “I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but the reason this house was even sold is because Rose ran out of money. I would assume she kept records, but she had no family that I know of.”

“Where is she now?” Garrett asked.

Miss Ginnie shrugged. “The only kin Rose claimed were her pregnant girls. Best she could, she tried making this home a happy place, but it was hard in the face of such pain. Teens aren’t easy to deal with under normal circumstances. Toss hormones and Savannah heat into the mix and Lord have mercy were there some fireworks over here.”

Eve remembered all too well. She hadn’t been pampered like she’d been at home. She’d done her share of cooking and cleaning and even though as much as possible she’d kept to herself, some of the other girls had been cruel—taunting her about her lack of communication from her baby’s father.

While Miss Ginnie rambled on about how some of the teens had come from less than desirable families, Eve caught herself studying Garrett. The way he seemed to exude tightly coiled physical power. As if at a moment’s notice he’d be capable of leaping from his chair to tackle any contingent. The word handsome didn’t do his angular face justice. Experience had taught her his gray eyes held the capacity to hurt or heal. There might now be crinkles at the corners from too much time in the sun, but essentially, on the outside, he was the same guy she’d fallen for all those years ago. How had he changed on the inside? How many times had she sat in this very spot, wondering what he was doing? Thinking? Had she been on his mind as often as he’d been on hers?

As if feeling her stare, he glanced her way. While Miss Ginnie rambled on, their eyes locked. Eve wanted to look down, but held her ground. Now wasn’t the time to let on how scared she truly was—not just about the odds of them ever finding their son, but taking on her father’s responsibilities and finding a way to cope with her growing fear that Hal hadn’t been the person she’d thought he was. As for how she felt about her unexpected reunion with Garrett? She might never completely understand.

“Miss Ginnie, Clara—” Garrett rose. “While we can’t thank you enough for talking with us, we don’t have long to be in town and we still need to get to the Vital Records Office. Maybe someone there can help find Rose.”

They said their goodbyes and then followed Clara’s directions to reach the next stop on their journey, where they encountered a line leading out the door.

Already on edge, wrung out from the memories of her father essentially abandoning her with Miss Rose, Eve said, “This is probably a sign. We should just go.”

“No way. We’ve come this far and need to see it through.”

Exhaustion clung to her, making her limbs feel heavy and drugged.

“What’s wrong?”

She shook her head, intending to keep her private issues inside, but then she found compassion in his eyes and he ever-so-lightly cupped his hands to her shoulders. The realization she was standing in an endless line in what might turn out to be an endless, fruitless search for their son… It was all too much—especially when what the two of them once shared was a dream. Like some far-off, hazy image of what she’d always dreamed her life could be. “I—I have to go.”

“Where?” Still holding her, his gaze searched hers. “You’re exactly where you need to be.”

Was she? Before her father’s cancer, she’d been a strong, self-supporting woman. She’d not only recognized she was miserable in a marriage that’d been lackluster from the start, but she’d taken on the business world and won. Landing contracts for the manufacturing of top New York fashion designers’ shoes had been not only fiscally rewarding, but personally fulfilling. She’d finally felt as if she were coming into her own. As if she’d lived the past decade underwater and had only just been allowed air. Then Hal’s cancer had struck hard and fast, and now she was constantly falling apart. She didn’t recognize the woman fainting at funerals and skipping out on family obligations. For the sake of not only her sanity, but all of the people depending on her to run her father’s companies, she had to pull herself together. Fast.

“Tell you what.” Garrett fished in his jeans pocket, handing her his keys. “Go back to the car and nap or rock out to the radio or whatever you need to do. I’ll handle this.”

Lips pressed tight and fighting tears, she nodded, taking Garrett up on his offer.

* * *

IT TOOK AN HOUR FOR GARRETT to learn exactly nothing. Not only was there no birth certificate, but no record whatsoever of their baby even having been born—or having died.

More than anything, Garrett wanted to give in to the slow burning rage building inside. He’d honestly been dumb enough, naive enough, to believe even the all-powerful Hal Barnesworth wouldn’t have been capable of pulling a stunt such as hiding his own grandson, but he’d been wrong.

In the crowded parking lot, Garrett found Eve asleep with the car’s windows down. She looked at peace and he didn’t want to ruin that.

He tried opening the driver’s-side door quietly, but she bolted awake.

Some of her hair had spilled from her tight French twist, making her appear more like she had back in school. His fingers itched to reach out, sample the soft strands as he once had been free to do, but he instead kept his hands to himself and climbed behind the wheel.

What they’d once shared was as lost as their son.

“Well?” she asked, tidying her hair. “What’d you find out?”

Right hand fisted, he punched the steering wheel. “Not a damned thing.”